


death-spells and their other

by circa1220bce



Category: Thor (2011)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Inspired by Art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-14
Updated: 2012-06-14
Packaged: 2017-11-07 17:03:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/433423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circa1220bce/pseuds/circa1220bce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slowly, one foot deliberately placed in front of the other, Loki circles the strange, gold-spun warrior fallen in the snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	death-spells and their other

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short fic inspired by this [lovely fanart](http://under-base.tumblr.com/post/20221893852/what-would-i-give-to-live-where-you-are-what) :)

Slowly, one foot deliberately placed in front of the other, Loki circles the strange, gold-spun warrior fallen in the snow. “You are not of Jötunheimr,” Loki says.

The warrior’s eyes are closed, limbs limp. This is not the first thing Loki has come across that is not-of-Jötunheimr. But Jötunheimr is ever-hungry, and if left long enough, this gold warrior will become as blue as her people. Loki has seen them, found decades later encased in ice. His great father, Laufey-king, orders them carved out and strung up from the temple parapet. _This is what becomes of trespassers_ , he announces, voice bellowing, each time one is found, while the Jötnar cheer and laugh at the dead, frozen thing.

Even slack in sleep, the warrior’s lips form a kind shape. He must be dreaming of kinder days. Of warmer realms. 

Loki tilts his head, studying, thinking, as the warrior’s breath becomes ever shallower. Things not-of-Jötunheimr are distressingly smooth. No lines, like the curves and arabesques that travel along Loki’s skin from forehead to toes. Some he was born with. Some were carved into his flesh when he performed worthy acts. Loki is more decorated than most his age. 

Most of the warrior is covered by thick fur of an animal with which Loki is not familiar. But his face is exposed, head turned limply to one side. There are lines branching out from the corner of his eyes, creases along his kind lips. 

Loki does not wish to see this face slack and blank, this body strung up on the parapets.

He kneels by the gold warrior’s head, taking one limp hand and resting it in his lap – feeling the strange warmth. Feeling that strange warmth seeping away. He opens the warrior’s hand and traces a finger along the lines of the pale palm. 

“You are lucky to have found me,” Loki says, clasping that hand in both of his and pouring green magicks into the pale skin. “Lucky too I am curious and clever and strong. Laufey-king would have me know only poisons and death-spells. But he does not understand, you see. You cannot know death-spells without knowing their other.”

The warrior’s eyelids twitch. The kind lips part. Loki pours more healing magicks into flesh that grows warmer. 

When eyes as blue as a Jötunheimr spring slide open, and a distant voice in a strange accent shouts, “My prince! Where are you?” Loki knows he has over-stayed. He brings one finger to his lips and murmurs, “Do not tell,” while the gold warrior blinks dazedly. Then Loki disappears behind a nearby cropping, sending a spark of light to the sky to attract the attention of the gold warrior’s companion. 

Loki peers around the cropping as the companion rushes to Loki’s gold warrior and helps him to his feet. “My prince! Finally we found you! Let us return straight away!”

Loki’s gold warrior stumbles, while the other struggles to support his weight. “Wait,” he says. Loki engraves into his memory the deep, lyrical sound of that voice, that he might hoard over it later. “I think … I saw something blue. And small.”

“Aye. I imagine you just looked around you, sire. There is nothing here _but_ blue. You must not have met any Jötnar, though. They are anything but small. Good thing, in your state.”

“I know, but…” Loki’s gold warrior sighs. “It had a kind smile.”


End file.
